


talk some sense (to me)

by Liu



Series: right in front of me [1]
Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - High School, ColdAtom Week 2016, Idiots in Love, M/M, Prom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-26
Updated: 2016-04-26
Packaged: 2018-06-04 16:05:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6665227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Liu/pseuds/Liu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>My submission for ColdAtom Week 2016 - Day 2: High School AU.</p><p>Len is (relatively) responsibly taking care of Lisa... but in her senior year, she becomes friends with Raymond Palmer, and Len's life quickly spirals out of control.</p><p>Or: Len is a fixer, Lisa is good at scheming and neither of them can resist the puppy that is Ray Palmer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	talk some sense (to me)

**Author's Note:**

> This fic includes an age difference of 9 years: Ray is 18 and Len is 27. There's no smut, but if this kind of age difference bothers you, this fic is prooobably not for you ^^;  
> My thanks to Gemenice for proofread :D all mistakes are mine though.

“Ray’s buying me a prom dress,” Lisa announces one day as she throws her school bag onto the sofa and lets herself fall into the cushions, putting her feet up over the armrest so Len can finish vacuuming the floor. He turns the machine off and raises an eyebrow at her, aiming for ‘stern parent’ and probably missing by a mile.

“Who’s Ray and how are you paying him back? Please don’t say ‘blowjobs’,” he smirks, and exactly as expected, she throws a cushion at him:

“Ew! Gross, Lenny. And no, just for your information, _he’s_ paying _me_ back. I helped him with some girl trouble.”

“Hope you buried the body properly,” he shoots back. It should probably worry him a little that she cackles for a good long while before elaborating.

“I didn’t murder his ex. I just prevented him from crying in front of her when he got drunk afterwards.”

Len frowns – he knows he can’t control his sister’s teenage social life, but he’s not too happy with her hanging out around drunkards. She must sense the shift in his mood because she lets her feet swing back to the floor and leans forward with a bit of a pout:  
  
“I know what you’re thinking, and it really wasn’t his fault.”

Len doesn’t really trust that assessment – he’s had years to stop believing excuses when he hears them, but he also knows that sometimes, circumstances are everything, and so he nods, deciding to be magnanimous and trust Lisa’s judgement, at least until he can make an informed decision on whether or not this boy deserves to be shot in the dick.

“I’m going with you.”

“Where?” Lisa asks, and the wary tone of her voice tells Len that she knows exactly what he means, but is hoping that he’ll somehow change his mind.

He won’t.

“Shopping, of course.”

It says a lot about their relationship that she doesn’t argue – maybe it’s because she’s feeling the same nostalgia about not having a mother to go with her, and maybe because she knows objections would be futile in the face of Len’s determination to protect her. But she obviously doesn’t like it, and she jabs her gold-nailed finger at Len’s face in clear warning:

“If you start commenting on necklines, you’re out.”

…..

That is how Len finds himself surrounded by fluffy tulle skirts and silky gowns on a Saturday morning.

His skepticism towards Raymond Palmer, the kid who looks like a quarterback and behaves like a puppy, was probably still showing on his face on the drive there, because Lisa kept shooting him warning looks in the rearview mirror. Len sat in the back, mostly as a mind game to see how well Raymond would deal with driving under the added pressure of an Older Brother behind his back.

Surprisingly enough, the kid’s driving was more than satisfactory. He even told Lisa to fasten her seatbelt – which was met with an eyeroll with Lisa and approval from Len, even though he didn’t voice it.

Lisa is swallowed by the heap of colorful fabric she drags with her into the changing room, and Len is left outside to put the fear of God (or fear of big brothers) into Raymond. It’s not hard to utilize every bit of knowledge Len has about how to appear threatening without so much as batting an eye: he’s been the smallest kid everywhere for years and he’s been the not-so-physically-imposing man in a lot of places, and now he knows how to handle himself. And how to handle the punks who might have certain intentions towards his sister.

He crosses his arms over his chest and just stands there – he doesn’t acknowledge Raymond in any way, and sure enough, not even two minutes in, the boy starts to fidget. He’s shuffling around on his big feet and stealing nervous glances at Len, who might be an inch or two shorter but he’s nearly a decade older and Raymond’s still at that age when a couple of years can mean a world of difference. Len conceals his amusement behind a frown and it only takes one more minute before Raymond is letting out a quiet sigh and biting his lip before turning to Len.

“So… I hear you’re good with your hands?”

Len freezes for a second and then turns, very, very slowly, to look at the kid. What the-  
  
“I mean, that you fix things! With your hands – well, obviously, how else could you fix anything, right?” the boy stammers and his cheeks turn an attractive shade of red. Len has really no business thinking about eighteen-year-old boys as attractive, but he’s so blindsided by the innuendo-that-turned-out-not-to-be-one that he can only raise an eyebrow at the blabbering.

“I see Lisa really didn’t pick you for coherence,” he snorts, and the boy grows even redder, but he doesn’t avert his eyes, so Len guesses that could earn him points for bravery. Or reckless stupidity, one or the other.

“Lisa is my friend,” he says firmly, even though he looks about ready to pass out.

Len quirks one eyebrow even higher up: “So you don’t want to date her?”

“Um, no?”

“Why? Feeling too good for my sister?”

“NO!” Raymond yelps, shaking his head and gesturing with his hands wildly, “That’s not it at all! Lisa is wonderful, she’s smart and badass and also extremely attractive, and I don’t mean it in a weird way- and you’re making fun of me,” he adds as his shoulders slump a little, his face a grimace of pure dejection. Len can’t help but chuckle at the sight, even though he’s mildly worried about how his job as a fixer for the Darbynians seeped through Lisa’s high school and warped into the role of a… mechanic? Plumber? He doesn’t even want to know.

“I am,” he admits, smirking a little, “you’re making it easy, Boy Scout.”

He’s heard all about the guy’s hobbies from Lisa – who was pretty set on persuading Len that her new friend (and fashion donor) wasn’t a creep. Len remembers hearing about an Eagle Scout project involving building a large fenced-in park for a local animal shelter.

Raymond opens his mouth, presumably to defend either his rank or his honor, but then, Lisa saunters out of the dressing room and they both turn to her in unison. Len doesn’t have the time to notice Raymond afterwards, because Lisa is breathtakingly beautiful in the dress she picked – the neckline _is_ a little lower than Len thinks is strictly appropriate for a school event, but he’s not gonna spoil Lisa’s obvious joy with stupid details like that.

“I think this is the one,” she says, but there’s a question in her eyes where usually only self-assurance resides, and she twirls around, the cream-colored skirt glittering in the air. Len has to blink to get rid of the annoying stinging in his eyes and he nods, glad that she can have the dress that she truly wants. Len can comfortably take care of both of them, but since he’s been taking less jobs in order to have enough time to complete them relatively safely, he definitely does not have the money for _this_ dress. Most of his savings go straight to Lisa’s college fund, and as much as he wants to make her happy, he wants her to have a good future as well.

Raymond is smiling at her too, blabbering something about how the dress suits Lisa’s coloring, and Len nearly believes that he’s not in love with her: his gaze is overjoyed for her without trailing down that plunging neckline, adoring but not lovestruck. He briefly wonders what kind of a boy would spend this much money on a girl he’s not in love with, and he nearly feels bad for being so cynical. But his experience with people has taught him that nothing in life comes free, and so when Lisa bounces away to take the dress off, Len frowns at Raymond in earnest.

“Why?” he asks, short and simple, and the confusion in the boy’s eyes looks genuine.

“Why what?”

“Why are you doing this for her?”

“She helped me,” Raymond shrugs, like that settles everything, like that’s a valid reason for dishing out an atrocious sum of money for a dress she’ll likely only ever wear once. “When I was feeling down, she helped me. We didn’t talk much, before, but she still wouldn’t let me make a fool out of myself, and she didn’t let me drive drunk either.”

Admitting that he was drunk earns the kid a tiny point for honesty, but he was still drunk and thus Len’s cynicism prevails.

“I thought the Scouts were all about morals and propriety.”

Raymond visibly winces at that remark – there’s something about the oaf that makes Len almost sorry for being a dick about this, but he refuses to let it slide. And if he needs to grill an overgrown puppy like Raymond to keep Lisa safe, he’ll do it.

“I know it will sound like an excuse, but… it was my brother. He thought it would… help.” There’s something about the way the kid says it that makes Len believe that sentence was supposed to have a different ending. Such as ‘my brother thought it would be fun’. Len’s never had any understanding for sibling rivalry, for making life harder for one’s brother or sister instead of helping them. Lisa and he were never like that, and Len feels instantly protective of the boy who should’ve been supported and offered help from his brother, and was, instead, kicked down.

“Didn’t you realize it was alcohol?” he asks, but he can hear that his voice has gone from stern to sympathetic, and Raymond must pick up on that because he gives him a tiny smile – apologetic, sour, self-deprecating.

“He said it was iced tea. He just forgot to tell me it was of the Long Island variety,” he makes a face and sighs, “it tasted fine to me, so I had… three, I think. I’ve never drunk before so it kicked in pretty quickly.”

Lisa walks out of the dressing room then, her new dress slung over her arm carefully, and she gives Len a quick searching look as if she wants to determine how badly he has been interrogating Raymond. Len drops the questioning (for now) and follows them to the cashier, where he pointedly ignores the fact that Lisa grabs a pair of golden heels and a bracelet, more than doubling the price of the dress. Raymond, however, doesn’t even bat an eye: he hands his card to the cashier without checking how much it all costs, and Len has a short moment of envy where he thinks of all the things he could’ve given or shown Lisa if they had been born into such money.

He opens his mouth to say that they should probably go, but Raymond is suddenly looking at him with a strange desperation in his eyes, and blurting out: “Lunch?”

Before Len can politely decline the offer, Lisa proclaims that she wants sushi, thrusts the bags into Raymond’s arms and stalks towards the Asian fusion restaurant on the top floor of the mall.

Len makes a face, and Raymond chuckles at his side a little.

“Not a fan of sushi?”

Len doesn’t mind sushi as much as he minds the mob-enforcer-by-night, chef-by-day who owns the place, but he doesn’t actually have a valid excuse for not granting his sister’s wish, so he frowns at the escalator and follows Lisa upstairs – Lisa, who is already pointing at the most expensive pieces on the menu. Len takes a moment to worry about how long her college funds will last this way; but deep down he knows that Lisa is far more frugal than she lets on, and just because she allows herself to indulge once in a while doesn’t mean she’ll spend her money recklessly.

“Not hungry,” Len waves his hand dismissively when Raymond gives him a questioning look: it’s not that he has a problem taking money from strangers, even in much more strained circumstances, but there’s just something that doesn’t sit well with his pride when it comes to exploiting a rather gullible teenage millionaire. Or billionaire, whatever Raymond’s status is, with that sleek black credit card and his disregard for price tags.

Raymond gives him a disappointed look but he nods:

“Alright… could you go find a table for us then?”

Twenty minutes later, Lisa and Raymond slide behind the table and… Raymond pushes his tray towards Len. There are several smaller plates on it, spring rolls and tiny dumplings, fried pastries, two types of what looks like sauteed chicken and a tiny bowl of some kind of noodle dish.

Len frowns up at the boy across from him. Who simply hands him a fork.

“Maybe you can try a bit of everything? See if you like any of those,” he smiles, in a completely guileless way that makes Len wonder how long before someone stabs this kid just to get to his wallet, without realizing that Boy Scout would likely hand it over without much prompting.

He takes the fork, because despite Raymond’s belief, he actually does enjoy Asian fusion quite a bit, and sends a quick prayer up to heavens that Leung the enforcer didn’t see him and poison the food. It tastes alright, more than alright, actually, and when Len makes a quiet pleased noise in the back of his throat after trying the spring roll, Raymond beams at him from across the table.

And Lisa is smirking like she knows something Len doesn’t – which he’s not a fan of, and he’ll have to investigate. Right after lunch.

Raymond also lets Lisa talk him into getting smoothies afterwards, and Len might feel ridiculous with the colorful cup and the huge straw, but the drink isn’t half bad and he’s all for healthy treats. However, sitting on the hard bench by the mall fountain and sipping on a carrot-apple smoothie, Len’s sixth sense is definitely picking up some nervous energy around. It almost feels as if Raymond doesn’t quite want them to leave, but for what reason, Len doesn’t know.

After they finish the smoothies and Raymond suggests a slice of ‘this fantastic apple pie they have in this tiny diner, not too far from here,’ Len’s suspicion reaches maximum levels and he’s had enough.

“What’s really going on?” he huffs, not unkindly, but firmly.

Raymond shuffles on his feet. Len stares – his glare has never failed to extract whatever shady truth it is that someone’s hiding from him. Sure as hell, while Lisa is still resisting by glancing around the nearby _everything_ , Raymond bites his lip (again) and sighs:

“I… I wanted to ask you-“

“Oh my god,” Lisa interrupts with a groan and an exaggerated eyeroll, “Ray is building that park for the dogs and he wanted to ask you for help. Since you’re so handy at _fixing_ things.”

Len can’t move for exactly four seconds. His eyes are plastered onto his sister’s face, with that sneaky, affronted, vengeful grin of hers, and he suddenly knows that Lisa has figured out what his job is. He always told her that he does odd jobs for various people around town, and yes, at one point when she was smaller, he told her he ‘fixed’ things. She must still remember that – and somehow, she must’ve found out what his job _really_ is.

His punishment, apparently, is building a puppy park with _one of the damn puppies._

Len accepts his fate with as much dignity as he can and shifts his gaze to Raymond, who is looking a bit like a dog who isn’t sure if he’s gonna get swatted on the nose or petted.

“Tell me the time and the address. I’ll be there.”

Raymond’s face transforms into the most brilliant smile Len has ever seen, and he feels a little bit bad about the fact that he’s never built anything with his own two hands. There’s something about Raymond’s expression that stays with Len even after they get home. It makes him sit down with his laptop and google DIY projects that could be relevant to a puppy fence.

Six days later, when his private phone, the one he only uses for Lisa, goes off with a text message that starts ‘hey! this is ray! hope u dont have plans for 2morrow?’, Len is actually ready to do this.

…

He’s not ready.

He’s very, very much _not_ ready for a plot of land half the size of a football field. It’s a nice bit of property: there’s wildly overgrown, emerald grass and a couple of beautiful old trees, and what looks like a run-down solitary bench, but otherwise… there’s nothing.

“What exactly do you want built here?” Len asks skeptically. Raymond, for some reason, beams at him.

“Just a fence, and some more benches, maybe a picnic table or two? I wanted to have a small pond in the back, but I’m not sure…”

He looks so dejected, and then he turns his big sad eyes to Len as if he thinks Leonard Snart looks like a man who knows how to build artificial bodies of water.

“You’ll have your pond,” Len huffs and resigns himself to a day of digging up holes for the fence posts… and a couple of nights spent on googling garden ponds.

…

Len has underestimated the time and effort it takes to dig post holes around such a huge plot of land. He has also underestimated the amount of research one has to do before building a damn hole in the ground filled with water: but thankfully, Raymond has enough school activities to participate in and tests to study for that they cannot work more than two or three afternoons in a week.

Every single time, Len returns home sweat-soaked and completely covered in dirt and dust. Lisa takes malicious pleasure in laughing at him as he tracks mud through the living room, no matter how hard he tries to shake off the worst of it outside. His shoulders and back ache almost constantly now, but he’s always been a stubborn jerk – he refuses to concede that Lisa has proven her point, whether it was about lying or about working in vaguely criminal circles.

And so, by the end of the month, when all the holes have been dug and all the posts are ready for the actual fence, Len can honestly say he never wants to watch another video about building ponds, choosing the right water plants for a particular environment and climate, and assembling and correctly setting up water filtration.

However, he has to admit that it’s worth it when Raymond drives them to the local gardening center and Len knows how to direct the kid’s enthusiasm away from the most expensive stuff and towards the things that might actually work better for them. Setting up the pond takes them the better part of a week, since they can only work a couple of hours at a time; while watching Raymond’s happy smile as they work, he can’t help but remember being that age. He was definitely not so overjoyed over building projects then – his mind was firmly set on keeping all of his jobs so he could support Lisa, and Len has to wonder if he hasn’t forgotten that Lisa isn’t a child anymore, that he could maybe start thinking about something else than putting food of the table and keeping their tiny house clean. It’s a startling thought to have while watching an eighteen-year-old boy laugh when he accidentally manages to shovel dirt so vigorously that it ends up in his hair, and Len resolutely does not reach out, even if his fingers itch to brush away the grains of soil from the dark strands.

The strange feeling remains lodged like a splinter under his ribs where he can’t reach, but he refuses to let his strange mindset control him. They finish the pond, and then they finish the fence, and Raymond keeps beaming at him like Len hung the moon.

Len develops an unfortunate habit of rubbing at his chest, as if he could wipe that strange tension away.

…

“Oh, come on, Lenny,” Lisa whines and attaches herself to his arm with pleading eyes. The eyelash-batting doesn’t work on him, but she valiantly tries, and then restores to pouting. “Do this one thing for me? Please?”

“Why would you want _me_ to chaperone your prom anyway?“ he asks, exasperated: he missed his own prom when he dropped out early, but he distinctly remembers how teenagers saw their parental figures attending the school dances, and he can’t quite believe that the attitudes towards adult supervision have changed _that_ much in the past decade.

Yes, he has a different kind of a relationship with Lisa, not quite siblings, not quite parent-and-child, not quite best friends, but it still doesn’t make sense that she would want him at her prom.

“Because,” she huffs, and Len thinks she’ll leave it at that, but in the end, she untangles herself from his arm and sighs, “the parents who have volunteered so far are assholes.”

As a responsible adult, Len probably shouldn’t encourage her talking that way about people, but they both know just how much of an asshole a parent can be, so he lets it pass. Besides, he’s seen the bunch at the PTA meetings, and… chances are, Lisa’s not wrong.

“I don’t want half the girls to be sent home for wearing a cute dress, or kids being yelled at for a kiss,” she huffs – Len wonders a bit whether she plans to make out with someone already or if she’s worried about her own dress.

Regardless of her reasons, there’s not much wrong with her logic, and Len finds himself nodding with a sigh.

“Just don’t expect me to knock out half the chaperones so you can grind against whoever you’re taking,” he rolls his eyes. Lisa gives him a mischievous wink:

“Don’t worry. Actually, I’m taking Ray.”

…

Len insists on driving – partly because it’s amusing watching Raymond splutter and swear to everything in the world that he’s not going to drink at all, but mostly because he does not believe in prom punch bowls that do not get spiked in the course of the evening.

Lisa, in turn, insists on calling him ‘James’ and bossing him around from the backseat, which amuses her to no end. Len glances in the rearview mirror and catches Raymond looking at him – his face splits with a bright smile immediately when he notices Len watching him, and Len refocuses his attention on the road. Raymond looks good, in a black tux that emphasizes his shoulders. Len half-expected Lisa to rope the guy into a golden vest or tie, but Ray wears simple black-and-white and wears it well.

As soon as Len parks, Lisa drags her partner inside, as if she has re-thought her opinion on arriving with her chaperoning brother and decided that she doesn’t want to be seen around Len too much. Len takes it in stride and goes inside to find his assigned partner for the night: he ends up with Stuart Snow, who might be watching like a hawk for skirts too short and hands too freely roaming, but at least he doesn’t seem like a creep, so Len thinks he could’ve done a lot worse than the guy.

The theme seems to be some sort of a masquerade ball – people are standing at the door, handing out glittery cardboard masks, and the whole room is decorated with a lot of draping fabric over the walls and electric candles in tall candleholders. Len foregoes the mask and spends most of his time guarding the punchbowl, even though he’s pretty sure his efforts will prove futile towards the end of the night anyway.

It’s nearly ten when Raymond finds him – Snow has just ran off somewhere, presumably to scare off a kid getting too handsy with their partner, so Len’s free to chat. Even though he’s not sure why Raymond would want to ‘chat’ with a chaperone, when he’s got a room full of age-appropriate people at his disposal, some of which apparently wouldn’t mind dancing with him a little longer. Len instinctual reaction is to start worrying about Lisa, because Raymond looks decidedly shifty, but he doesn’t look in a rush for some adult assistance when he leans against the wall next to Len (and makes the nearby candle holder sway precariously).

Len rights the candles so they don’t fall and smirks a little at the suddenly red-faced teenager.

“Having fun?”

“Yeah. I… uh, I was wondering… do you have a minute?”

Len raises an eyebrow and sweeps the dance floor with a pointed look; Raymond looks like he’s biting the inside of his cheek and for someone so big, he definitely looks like a bashful child. It only drives home how young he is, and Len instantly feels like a shitty person for all the times he has lingered a little too long on one of Raymond’s brilliant smiles.

But it seems like the kid is genuinely worried about something – maybe he wants to ask advice on how to tell Lisa that he likes her after all. He’s gonna get his heart broken, probably, and Len feels a sudden rush of sympathy for the boy. He’s come to care, apparently, while digging up dirt in the park, and he can’t help but want to offer whatever words of advice – or comfort – he can.

“Sure,” he nods, and follows Raymond out of the gym, down the corridors strewn with confetti and other glittery debris that Len already dreads having to clean up later. Raymond leads him out of the building altogether, around the school’s walls and to the backyard, and with every step, a sense of dread fills Len’s lungs, pushing against that splinter still lodged somewhere deep and infuriating. He presses his fingers into his chest through the button-up shirt, rubs at the skin as if the irritation was on the surface, and wishes that he’s wrong.

But no teenager would lead him out this far if he wanted to discuss his sister, Len is nearly sure of that. All the smiles Raymond has directed at him make infinitely more sense, how many there have been and why Raymond never seemed to smile quite so brightly at anyone else. Len does not know how to stop this now, without hearing Raymond out, and his heart aches because he knows he has to let the boy down, gently but firmly. It’s weirdly painful to admit to himself how much he doesn’t want to.

Finally, Raymond stops and turns to him, eyes bright and face half-hidden in the shadows. The music is quieter here, softer, and it turns the generic pop ballad sound almost intimate. Len drops his hand from his chest and tries to collect his thoughts into an apology, an excuse, a rational explanation.

“I… I was wondering,” Raymond starts, flustered and so obviously nervous that the protective part of Len that actually sees Raymond as the boy that he is wants to reach out and tell the kid that it’s alright. But it’s not – Len shouldn’t even be here, out back at night, alone with an eighteen-year-old. “If you’d dance with me?”

The innocence of that request takes Len by surprise – it must show in his eyes, because Raymond quickly backtracks, waving his hands around like a giant, muscular windmill:

“I get that you shouldn’t, I mean, I know that you can’t, inside, but you can hear the music from here and I thought if nobody was around, I…”

“Raymond,” he says, quietly, to stop the boy before he gives himself a heart attack. “It’s not a good idea.”

He’s never felt this old before, too old for this boy and so damn young that he feels out of his depth letting someone down. Another side-effect of focusing on providing a better life for Lisa: he forgot to live his own, forgot how it felt to be this unsettled by someone’s presence, to have all of his insides clenching with the want to reach out and pull someone close, inside his walls.

“It’s just a dance. Please?”

“Plenty of people to dance with you inside, don’t you think?” Len counters, playing stupid: he doesn’t want to let on that he understands what Raymond means. It feels like acknowledging these inappropriate, misplaced feelings would give them too much power, and it would make saying ‘no’ even harder than it is. Harder than it should be, anyway.

“I wanted to dance with you.”

It’s quiet and honest and the splinter burrows deeper into Len’s chest, grazing his heart. He takes a deep breath – there’s no way around it now, only straight through.

“I’m twenty-seven, Raymond. Way too old for you.”

“You’re not,” he says, with the conviction of someone who’s eighteen and wants something so bad it shows in his eyes. Len fights not to turn away from that radiating hope.

“I am,” he counters softly. “And you’re moving away soon, aren’t you? Can’t go to MIT and commute from Central.”

And that is the sad truth of it – while he understands the moral gray areas that would come with starting anything with Raymond, Len doesn’t have the strength to watch him walk away a couple months later. Len has never been good at casual and this would end up hurting him more than the resilient teenager who’s going to be busy exploring university life soon.

“You could move to Boston,” Raymond suggests, outrageously, boldly, and Len’s breath catches in his throat at the sheer audacity of the request. That an eighteen-year-old should ask him to uproot his whole life, for- what for, exactly? Len doesn’t know. He opens his mouth to say so, already frowning, but Raymond’s faster – he takes a step forward, towards Len, and the enthusiasm in his eyes is nearly manic. Like he truly believes Len _will_ move – like he thinks it could actually work.

“No, hear me out. You don’t really have a stable job here, right? You can fix things in Boston as well. And I’m sure Lisa wouldn’t mind having you nearby too.”

Wait a moment.

“What does Lisa have to do with it?” Len scowls, and his own voice sounds like a hollow echo in his ears.

Raymond blinks – the resemblance with a confused puppy-dog is still there, but Len is far too agitated to appreciate it at the moment.

“Well, she got her acceptance letter from Harvard, right? So she’s going to Boston too. Wait… didn’t she tell you?”

Raymond’s eyes widen and his expression would be funny if Len only didn’t feel like something inside of him is ripping under the strain of keeping his face neutral. He doesn’t want to point fingers just yet, but it sounds an awful lot like Lisa is behind all this – a suspicion only confirmed when Raymond’s face twists into a dejected pout.

“Lisa also said you liked me.”

“Lisa said,” Len repeats slowly, all of his rationality overshadowed by a sudden flare of white-hot rage in his veins. He turns on his heel and stalks back towards the school entrance – he can more sense than hear Raymond following him, possibly to help Lisa out of this mess, but nothing can save her now. Prom or no prom, Len needs to have a word with his sister – _now_.

He zeroes in on the gold of her dress: she sees him approach from across the room, and to her credit, doesn’t attempt to run.

“Outside,” he snaps and turns to walk to the corridor again, waving off another chaperone saying something about his duties. He doesn’t care about duties right now – all he cares about is making Lisa understand that it’s not alright to mess with his life, with his heart, just to get what she wants.

Even if what she wants is to keep her brother close, so they don’t have to fly hundreds of miles to see each other twice a year.

All anger leaves him as he reaches the corridor and he leans against the lockers behind him, drawing a shaky breath.

“Are you okay?” Raymond’s concerned voice reminds him that the boy is still here; just as Lisa appears in the doorway, all fluttery gold and contrite glances his way.

Len looks up at her and sighs.

“Lis… did you really think I wouldn’t move to Boston with you?”

She shrugs, slightly defiant and very teenage, but the insecurity in her eyes tells her story without words. Len suppresses a groan and reaches for her – she curls into his arms like she used to when she was twelve and still had nightmares every week. She’s too grown up for her own good and larger than life, but in this moment, she’s his tiny little baby sister and he drops a kiss into her carefully styled hair. It leaves a trail of hairspray and golden sparkles on his lips that taste disgusting, but he doesn’t mind at all.

“Could’ve just asked me,” he mutters. “You didn’t have to play with people’s feelings, alright?”

“I didn’t,” she huffs, but sniffles a little before she pulls back and that’s also telling for her, because she hardly ever cries. Len can smell cheap vodka on her breath when she stares up at him – the punch bowl must’ve suffered in his short absence. “It’s not playing, alright? I knew you’d move with me, I just… I wanted you to know that it’s okay to have your own life now, alright? I wanted you to move for _you_ , too – and I’ve been listening to you two talking about each other for weeks now, I _know_ I’m not imagining things.”

Raymond catches his gaze over Lisa’s head, and the splinter in his chest transforms into something living and warm and fuzzy, and curls up next to Len’s heart.

Lisa slaps his stomach so hard she nearly knocks his breath out of him and snickers:

“Now go have your dance.”

**Author's Note:**

> Come (s)talk on [tumblr](http://pheuthe.tumblr.com/) :D


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